Lupe Back
(专辑: Friend Of The People - 2011)
Yield, to the
forces of darkness I
bring you the
torches of our shit Reinforced with hardness of Wolverine's Arms with the
harshness and overall sharpness Now how far do the
arms get? My nigga, from the
stars to the
starfish From the
baby to the
bomb It's a
whole lot of light and a
whole lot of armlift My arms long, but I'm lawless A
strong arm, I
can lift up all this You gon' have to build a
bigger farm for us To keep them wolves out of Old MacDonald barn, bitch Yeah, Team Jacob We're long armed, put my arms on a
lear Everytime I
put my hands in the
air Watch the
throne as I
dance in the
chair Throw my crown in the
crowd, hope it lands on the
heir The
weak niggas like to pass interfere Spend a
lot of lint over jams in the
year That act like the
man up in here That don't count when your only real fan is a
mirror That's subliminal to any nigga that he feel he is too But you don't stand a
chance, playa I
am there, Chi-Town, fan of the
Bears Love where they dance in the
square Yeah, Yankees too, but only cause Granderson there And now wears khaki pants on La Brea We all friends, why your man looking scared? Turning whiter than Anderson hair Came out the
garage like he saw a
phantom in there, huh Oh shit alert, Louis clothes Callin women bitches, Louboutin and Gucci shows Well, I
guess there goes my Louis shows More o
shit, if your role model's a
movie role And if you live your life like it's a
studio Talking to us like we mics, a
bunch of you ain't do befo' Electric fences for a
urinal Also keep a
toaster in my jacuzzi, yo Shock-a-zulu, call me Wasalu II Oh shit, man these record labels prostitute you Strap them to sushi bars, and feed em lots of fugu Catch a
bad piece You can stick that 360 between your asscheeks Artists let's mobilize and unionize like the
athletes Radio is making our craft weak Forced to repeat the
same dumb shit that work Only as hot as your last beat And rappers, they relating to that last piece Album never leave they desk if you don't got no B.D.S Sacrifice your publishing, they said you really need a
hook And they ain't gon' pay you, said that you received a
look And what's stupid real, is what producers feel Twenty placements or you stuck in that producer deal And R&B chicks so get it the
wildest All they money goes to hairdressers and stylists Gotta keep up with that image Label lose they mind if they ever see a
blemish ProActiv impeals, airbrushers and trainers Managers suggest you fuck a
nigga to be famous, huh But it's all entertainment Wonder when Cobain blew out his brains, did he blame it? And if those snakes in the
industry helped him aim it Started pressing up records before the
bullet left the
chamber I
fight evil, everyday I'm living Rest in peace to men, women and the
children And middle fingers to the
Pilgrims that killed 'em Friend of the
People, happy Thanksgiving